


Another Long Night

by todisturbtheuniverse



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode 83, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 08:43:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9483389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/todisturbtheuniverse/pseuds/todisturbtheuniverse
Summary: Vex must be having the longest goddamn night in Kymal right now. Spoilers for Episode 83.





	

“I know you can’t hear me.”

She knows–she knows, it is too far and the earring can’t possibly reach anyone. She can’t help but try. She remembers that sensation, of falling, of reaching, and she wishes–she almost wishes she was still falling. This stillness feels too much to her like death, that cold dark place she remembers like a shadow out of the corner of her eye, still watching.

“Kaylie can fix this,” Vex says, even though her voice trembles in the muffled quiet of her room in the inn, the dying-off revelry downstairs still just audible through the floorboards. She braces herself against the uncomfortable headboard, lets the grooves of it dig into her back, keeping her uncomfortable. If she closes her eyes she remembers Kerr trying to pack Percy’s insides back where they belong, and if she remembers that, she’ll be no use to anyone. If she closes her eyes she remembers her brother holding the body, and if she remembers that, she’ll…she’ll…

But there’s no one to be of use to here, is there. Just her, and a doddering old Eskil Ryndarien–who, for all his power, can’t teleport anywhere twice in one day–and–

She remembers _just then_ and hates herself for taking so long; she clutches the necklace and Trinket spills out, several hundred pounds of bear hitting the floor with a few loud thuds. Downstairs, the revelry briefly quiets before flaring up again.

“Oh, buddy,” she says, the tears that she’s fought so hard starting to spill over onto her cheeks, “I’m so–”

But Trinket has never had patience for her apologies, even as a cub; in those early days she’d once turned her back on him for only a moment, long enough for him to get well into some plant that made him horribly sick, but within hours he was cuddling up to her bedroll again, happily requesting attention. She has never been quite sure if it’s just that he forgets, or if he’s simply quick to forgive. One way or the other, he attempts to climb up on the bed with her, uninterested in her words when he can clearly see that she’s distraught, and the bedframe squeals a warning.

“No, no, I think I should come to the floor with you,” she says, surprised to find that she’s laughing, even as she’s wiping away tears. As soon as she hears herself, she stops; how will anything be funny, ever again, with Scanlan gone from the world?

Trinket puts his paws back down on the floor, her shirt clasped in his mouth to pull her along. She goes without resistance, and they settle against one another, battered girl and battered bear, mindful of one another’s bruises and scrapes, Trinket content to lick the whole of her face. She lets him, stinky breath and all. She reeks already, anyway.

“We’re in Kymal,” she tells him, in case he was wondering. “I had to get Kaylie, send her back to Whitestone, to–to…”

Trinket dips his head to nuzzle her face, giving a low, worried grunt.

“It was bad, Trinket. It was really bad. Percy almost…again. And Scanlan…”

He settles his massive head on her shoulder, nose right in the crook of her neck, and snuffles wetly.

“I’m just so tired,” she whispers, “and I can’t even help.”

Trinket grumbles at that. She doesn’t need a spell to understand what he’s saying. She’s always been able to get the gist. He grumbles at her and she knows that he thinks she’s done everything she can.

“It just never feels like enough.” Her eyes are itching now, dry and awful from those tears she just couldn’t keep in, and she has to close them. She is tired, so tired, and maybe that’s why there’s no image waiting to greet her, no silent horror to ambush her, just darkness. “I hope it was enough.”

His next huff is impatient. She almost smiles; she feels the muscles stir feebly. No patience for apologies. No patience for unnecessary wallowing.

“You’re right,” she agrees. “I’m just tired, and feeling sorry for myself, and for…for everyone.” She takes a deep breath, and it wobbles on the way out, but it steadies her. “We have to stay the night here, and then we can go home, and…and see.”

He shifts a little, enough to curl up to sleep the way they used to: her back braced against his furry side, her head tipped against his soft back, her legs stretched out across the floor. Not as comfortable as a bed, but the bed probably has bugs, anyway. With her eyes closed, she can almost see the night sky sprawled above them, just past the boughs of the trees. Her whole body aches, there’s something or other dried in her hair, and she is too tired to move another inch.

She tries the earring one more time. “Vax?”

Trinket breathes behind her, his body rising and falling with it.

She clears her throat. “Percy?”

There is nothing, no one there, and she can’t make her voice work anymore. She turns her face into Trinket’s fur, throws an arm around him, and keeps her eyes shut tight.

Somehow–fear or no, dread or no–morning will come, and then they will see.


End file.
